Hard Goodbye
by Hellcat The Wicked
Summary: Chapter Five: Yet more letters are written, and something good happens to Jackie!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Hard Goodbye

Author: Hellcat The Wicked

Disclaimer: Nothing 70's is mine. I wasn't even alive for the 70's.

Summary: Jackie writes a letter to Steven, explaining her thoughts about "The Stripper" and how much she regrets the way things ended between them.

Dear Steven,

You told me you didn't want to get married. All I needed was to hear that you wanted to be with me, that you weren't going to leave me. But you couldn't do that...not for me. I tried to prove to myself that you and I had a future, that we were going to be together, and that I didn't need to know that you were going to be there in ten years down the road, or twenty, or even thirty, when I'm old and are into my second face lift. The only thing I ever needed from you was your love, your assurance, and your compassion.

But you didn't give me any of that. When I needed you, you were cold, uncompassionate, and cruel. You spoke snidely, and insisted that I sickened you. You had no regard for anything I might have felt or needed, and only thought of yourself. Even in bed, you were selfish. Passionate, charming, and completely, totally, self-oriented. The only time I ever felt connected to you was when we slept together. That was the only time you gave yourself to me. When you held me, it was with a tenderness that I didn't know you even possessed, and it was enough to give me hope. It was enough to make me feel loved. But when those tender moments stopped, and you couldn't even offer me hope...well, can you really blame me for leaving?

And why were you were so surprised, so wounded, to see me taking comfort in Michael? You should have known that I would never...you knew I didn't do anything wrong. I would never hurt you the way you hurt me. The way Michael hurt me. The way every man I've ever loved has hurt me. And besides, Michael and I were always close, whether we were lovers or otherwise. We always understood one another, and we've always been able to comfort each other, no matter what was going on with our lives. We like to take care of each other. That was something you and I never shared. Why didn't you want to take care of me the way Michael did!

And then...and then you showed up and you started making assumptions. You didn't let me explain, you wouldn't let me tell you that I would never do that to you. You just left! You knew I loved you, and you just threw me away. In my place, wearing a little gold band that should be mine, is that girl. The Stripper. She can't love you the way I did. You have to know that, don't you? That no one will ever love you like I did? Of course you do. You're nothing if you're not egotistical. Of course I loved you – you'll say. Of course I found you sexy, and needed you so passionately. You're Steven Fucking Hyde.

What you didn't expect is that I just can't let myself love you any more. The hurt is too deep, and I'm so beyond tired of being hurt by you.

How dare you tell me that you're not ready to marry me, and then tell me that you're already married to some cheap, blonde bimbo. What's worse, you agreed to stay with her! You stayed with her not more than a day after you told me that you wanted to be with me, but you "weren't ready to get married." You weren't sure if you would ever be ready to get married. I was ready to give up my life's dream, the only thing that you and I had not shared, so that you would stay. I would have been happy to give up everything for you, because you showed me that having everything meant nothing if I didn't...if I didn't have you.

You never even really broke it off with me, you just...faded away. You were unaffected by me, by anything I said or anything I did. You weren't wrapped up with your new wife, but you weren't wrapped up in me either. I want to hate you. I want to forget what we had, and how little I must've meant to you, for you to give me up so easily. Maybe I should go back to Chicago. I can't stay here, Steven. I can't be the girl I used to be. I can't pretend that you and I were never together. I wish I could have been the one who ended it, that I could have thrown you away as easily as you threw me away. Its not too late. I don't need you anymore.

I don't ever want to see you again, Steven. I don't even want to look at you. I'm leaving this trashy town and my trashy ex. Eric had the right idea, going to Africa. I'm going to Paris. I've always wanted to go to Europe. You wont care. By the time you read this I'll be on a plane – first class, of course. You'll read this and toss it aside and go screw your sluty little wife, and forget all about me. I don't care anymore, Steven. I finally get what it means to be truly Zen.

I wasn't lying when I said I swore off men. I just should have been more clear. I've sworn off men like you. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Hard Goodbye

Author: Hellcat The Wicked

Disclaimer: Nothing 70's is mine. I wasn't even alive for the 70's.

Summary: The letter to Hyde is delivered, with consequences to follow.

Jackie ran a hand through her long, raven hair, pleased with the way her hot rollers had done their job, and went about her daily chores. Mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, blush, all carefully and artfully applied to flawless caramel skin. Her mismatched eyes, one hazel, one brown, were fabulously rimmed with black and brown, highlighting their unusualness and their overwhelming beauty. She was a mesmerizing woman, and she would be damned if everyone around her didn't acknowledge it.

Jackie stood nude before her closet (after she'd made sure Fez was nowhere to be found) and chose a gray cashmere sweater, a black knit skirt, and a pair of black knee-high boots. When she was satisfied with her clothing, she chose a pair of heavy earrings, old and made of glittering gold coins. If there was one thing Jackie Burkhart knew, it was fashion. After a moment's worth of thought, she chose a pair of gold bangles, which she layered on her left wrist. Pleased with herself, she lifted a bottle of Chanel Cristalle parfum and sprayed herself liberally with the blend of citrus, honeysuckle and hyacinth. Steven had always adored her scent, and every so often she had caught him smelling her hair when he'd thought she was asleep.

She took one final glance in the mirror, startled by the striking beauty before her, and snatched her black, leather jacket off her bed. It was new, a gift from her mother, and it was the final touch to her fabulous new look.

Upon entering the Forman house, she was met with two conflicting scents. She'd always been intimately fond of the smells in the Forman house, but something had changed. The smell of Eric's cologne was conspicuously absent, and instead of cookies and home-cooked food, there was only the lingering aroma of alcohol. The only thing that remained consistent was the sticky-sweet perfume that had permeated the entire house, and it belonged to Sam.

Jackie knew that Red was the only one home, and that he would not say anything if she asked him not to. She went into the study to talk with him, hoping to draw some kind of comfort from the cold, compassionate man.

"Hello, Jackie," he said, nodding in her direction. "You look nice today."

He sat in his study, polishing a pair of shoes, and drinking a can of beer. This image was not unfamiliar to Jackie, but in that moment she was seeing him with new eyes. He seemed older, wearier, and the dark-haired girl was inclined to believe that it had much to do with Eric's absence.

"Hi, Mr. Forman. I – erm – wanted to leave this for Steven, is that okay?" she asked.

Red paused and looked up at her, taking in her appearance and her expression. She seemed more polished than she had in some time. It was a sight he both welcomed and dreaded. It was the day she said goodbye. He'd known it would come since Sam first appeared. Red had always known that Jackie was far too good for Steven, and that Steven would pull some "dumbass" shenanigan and ruin everything.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Jackie?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Jackie nodded solemnly, and gestured vaguely to the small, brown package in her hand.

"Its – uhm – kind of a goodbye, Mr. Forman."

"I see..." he paused and studied her a moment longer. Jackie was stronger than anyone ever thought she was. "Where will you go?"

"I'm headed to Paris. My flight leaves in three hours, so will you give this to him in four?"

"Of course." Red nodded toward the girl and took the package gruffly. He did not want to be the one to deliver such ill tidings, but he also knew that Steven had this coming. Red offered her a brief smile, and a briefer hug, and let Jackie cry on his shoulder for a moment.

"I'm going to miss you, Mr. Forman. You were a better father to me than my own. Thank you."

Red blinked back his own tears, hating that he was so close to losing his composure. In truth, he hadn't been close to tears since Eric left, but seeing Jackie go was almost too much. She was too sweet a girl to have to live her life under current circumstances.

"Take care of yourself, Jackie," he murmured, offering her one last hug. "Call when you get settled."

"I will, thanks."

She smiled brightly and bid him a fond farewell, then left the Forman house without a backwards glance. Blinking her own modest tears away, she admitted to herself that of all the people in Point Place, she would miss Red the most.

She returned to the apartment that she shared with Fez and finished packing her bags. Anything that did not fit in her four suitcases would get left behind. She could always replace the odds and ends, things that did not matter. She was surprised at the ease with which she was abandoning her old world. Jackie knew that there certain hurts would never heal, but she was more than willing to pretend that they would, particularly if it meant that she could be free. All she wanted in that very moment was to be free of everything that had become so familiar, and to forget.

She closed her eyes and imagined Steven's face when he opened the package. His ratty T-Shirt wrapped around a scrap of violet stationary, still smelling vaguely of her perfume. She knew that he would wear the facade of complete Zen, and pretend that nothing he read mattered, but she knew he would be affected by it. She knew that everyone would feel her loss, and that those that loved her best would blame Steven and Samantha, as they should. She knew also that she would be forgotten, and that Steven would continue living out his days with his tacky, stripper-wife, and never think of her again.

She was coming to terms with that, and in place of sorrow, anger was beginning to surface. She hardened her heart against Steven's memory and vowed to forget him once she was out of Point Place. That was when she noted the contents of her bags. So many of her possessions were tainted with Steven's presence.

More importantly, they were probably out of style.

She filled a black, leather bag full of her best jewelry, makeup, and hair care products. She did not bother adding Cristalle to the bag. It reminded her too much of Steven, and despite how empowered she felt when she wore it, she refused to be reminded of even her finest memories. She sighed and called a taxi, thankful that Fez would not be home for another hour or so. Jackie Burkhart, the girl who loved grand entrances and exits with passion, would be gone before anyone dared notice. And she was glad of it!

She wrote a brief note to Fez, explaining her situation and leaving a check to cover the next three months worth of rent. It was the least, she said, she could do. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she would miss him, but she couldn't bring herself to write any of that. Instead, she scribbled a goodbye, streaking the paper with her tears, and left the name of the hotel she would be staying at until she found an apartment.

'And,' she thought, 'until my French gets better.' She smirked and signed her name in the curling, aristocratic handwriting she was famous for. That fantastic Jackie signature that would someday be as known to the world as the curves of her face. 'Soon...' she told herself, smiling. 'Everything will be better soon.'

It occurred to her that everything should have been harder. She should have been more upset about leaving and turning her back on her whole world, but she was beginning to realize that there wasn't much worth staying for any longer. Michael might have been able to talk her into staying, as he'd always understood her better than anyone else, but with him gone, she felt as though her last ties to Point Place were completely cut. She had no family, only a fortune, and she saw no reason why she could not spend that fortune elsewhere. And the few friends that she still counted, Donna and Eric, Fez and Randy, were certainly not worth staying with.

Never mind that she was not overly fond of Randy. Jackie sighed and took one last look around her room. She hoped Fez would find a roommate before the money ran out. She hoped that Donna would be able to keep up with her roots without Jackie's constant reminders.

Pausing over her pile of products that would not fit into her carry-on, she decided to leave a deep conditioner for Donna, just in case she forgot that Suave and Prell were not sufficient for color-treated hair. She scribbled Donna's name on the bottle and left it on the vanity. Then, she decided to leave her hair cream for Fez, just in case he ran out of his. And, to show that she was not a horrible person, she left the perfume that Steven had been so fond of to Sam. She scribbled their names on tiny cards and tacked them to each product until she was satisfied that she was a giving and wonderful person.

She heard a car honk in front of her building and froze, smiling. She could put it off no longer. She shouldered her bag and left the apartment, her eyes misty with more than just sorrow. She was happy. She was finally letting go. 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Hard Goodbye

Author: Hellcat The Wicked

Disclaimer: Nothing 70's is mine. I wasn't even alive for the 70's.

Summary: The package is opened, Zen is compromised, and a plane to Paris takes off.

Steven Hyde studied the simple, brown package before him, musing over the circumstances it had come into his possession. Red had been drinking a beer, at the kitchen table, watching the package as though it were a Communist with a pistol and an agenda. He'd been scowling at it dangerously, with the sort of blind rage he'd exhibited when he'd discovered that Eric and Steven did, in fact, smoke pot. It was a quiet anger that permeated the entire room and filled everyone with dread.

"Er...hi, Red," Steven had said, cocking an eyebrow over his sunglasses. Red glared at the younger man, eyes blazing with suppressed fury.

"This came for you today," he'd said, coldly. There was something truly final in his expression, as though no amount of sarcasm, anger, or ass-kicking could ever express. Steven Hyde turned toward the refrigerator and reached inside, intent on a beer of his own. When he turned his attention back to Red, he was gone, only the package remained.

Presently, Steven was in the basement, examining the box with a sort of quiet fear. He was not accustomed to fear, but whatever had made Red so angry certainly had to do with the contents of that box. Knowing this, the young beatnik had no inclination to find out what was in the blasted thing. He shook it experimentally, trying to learn anything he could from the outside, hoping vaguely that he would not actually have to open it, but there were no clues that would give anything away.

Finally the realization of how ridiculous he was being hit him like a shot of Absolute. He pulled the paper off the odd, unmarked parcel, and peered inside. His shirt, his Zeppelin T-shirt lay carefully piled around a familiar piece of violet stationary. He held the shirt up, stone silent, his jaw set in an unnatural state of hardened anger. He scrutinized it, horrified that Jackie had sewn the holes, mended the sleeves, and – most importantly – given it back. Despite everything, he'd never expected Jackie to give him back his shirt. It had some sort of sacred power to her, as though making a gift out of a ratty T-shirt that he'd had since his first Led Zeppelin concert were some sort of proclamation of love...

He tossed it onto the bed, as though it meant nothing to him, and turned to the letter, which might offer some explanation for this odd package. In skimming the page, however, his sense of Zen was challenged.

"Trashy ex..." he snarled. "Who does she think she is!"

His hands unconsciously balled into fists, crushing the curling script and purple stationary. He wanted to crush her with the stupid letter. Who was she, to walk around like some wounded starling, when she'd been the one to try to manipulate him? She was not some innocent creature of unwavering virtue. Her sole goal since birth had been to marry rich and young. And when she realized that rich was unlikely, given that she was the most wealthy person in Point Place, she'd settled for marrying young.

And when she realized that every man she loved would abandon her, she turned to him – Steven Hyde! – and hoped for some kind of miracle. She'd expected him to treat her like Eric treated Donna. Like the sun rose and set on her face, and his whole universe revolved around her. But he wasn't Eric. And Jackie wasn't Donna. And Steven would never be able to offer her the kind of unwavering love that she expected from everyone around her.

Sam was easy...in more ways than the obvious. She didn't expect anything but loyalty from him. She didn't care if he went out with the boys, or worked late, or talked to girls who were prettier and classier than she was. Not that it was difficult to find girls like that. Jackie was one of those girls, after all. But Jackie wasn't the kind of girl he wanted to end up with. She needed him, and he didn't like to be needed. Sam, at least, could handle herself. She'd been left by enough men to know how to move on without binge eating and crying, and getting drunk and topless at bars.

'Wait,' he mused. 'She does that last one...'

But that didn't really matter. At least Sam was reliable. At least he knew that she wouldn't expect him to save her. Or comfort her. Or be there for her. And it was better this way. Let Jackie go to Paris and find some rich French fop to marry, and let her have a thousand little French babies to be raised by a thousand French nannies. Jackie Burkhart was not a part of his life anymore, and he was completely okay with that. It was too hard to be Zen with her around anyway...

Two hours away, in the Kenosha airport, a petite brunette flounced jubilantly into her seat, pleased with the charmingly first class nature of her travel. Everything felt better, the farther she got from Point Place. She was happy. No, she was giddy. Half of her wanted to cry for the loss she was about to suffer, and yet the other half of her wanted to laugh hysterically, if for no other reason than to defy Steven. Despite his best efforts, she did not think of herself as anything less than what she was.

'And what I am is fabulous.' she thought, smirking.

She leaned back in her seat, ordered herself a very dry gin martini, and thought carefully about the hotel in Paris, and of a long, bubble bath. And of shimmering champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. A part of her wished that a certain dark-haired beatnik with a wild paranoid streak would be joining her, but that part of her was immediately silenced by excitement, freedom, and an unwavering sense of self that Jackie Burkhart had not experienced in years.

Back before Michael had cheated on her, and she'd become unsure of herself; back before she'd turned to Hyde and darned a mask of false Zen to please him, she'd been a confident, engaging, witty creature. She'd been the kind of girl who was sought after by men of all ages. One who could take an entire room full of the richest, most powerful men in the state and wrap them around her carefully manicured finger. Tears stung her eyes when she realized how deeply her relationships had affected her. She hated who she'd become. She hated being a simpering, crying slip of a girl, one who constantly let men walk all over her. That wasn't who she really was, and that wasn't who she was going to continue to be.

She was Jackie Burkhart, and she was going to Paris. Nothing else mattered. 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Hard Goodbye 

Author: Hellcat The Wicked

Disclaimer: Nothing 70's is mine. I wasn't even alive for the 70's.

Summary: Musings from a bleached blonde.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Okay, here's the deal... I don't know if I like this chapter. I'm honestly not overly fond of Donna, and feel like this was kind of repeating stuff from earlier chapters. I don't know. It might get taken out in favor of a different scenario I thought about, but it means writing from a perspective I like even less than Donna. And I don't think any of us really care what Sam has to say about this situation anyway.

Donna Pinciotti studied the tornado that had once been Jackie Burkhart's room. Clothes, products, shoes...Jackie's whole little empire of possessions had been strewn all over the room, as though Jackie had torn through everything in a frenzy of insane packing. The note she'd found, tacked to a bottle of expensive Italian cream rinse had simply said,

Gone to Paris, will call when settled. USE THIS! Love Jackie

At first the blonde had been furious with her long-time friend. How could she just leave like that? Without even a goodbye? For three days Donna had raged to Randy about Jackie's selfishness, her disrespect, her irresponsible nature. Then, once Fez had finished whimpering about the loss of his beloved roommate, and Randy had finally gotten tired of hearing Donna's cries of outrage, Donna found herself in Jackie's old bedroom.

Most of Jackie's things were still where she'd dropped them, much of which were still packed in expensive-looking luggage. Jewelry, cosmetics, and hot rollers had been the only items the petite brunette had taken with her, and that worried Donna. Jackie did not know how to travel light. And finding the few modest gifts that Jackie had left behind, things that had been a part of her life, a part of her every day routine, had been almost unbearable.

It brought back a certain amount of nostalgia. Donna remembered finding that many of these things, or things like them, had nearly taken over the tiny bathroom they'd shared only a year or two ago. Back when they'd been friends – like sisters – and bantered, fought, laughed, needed each other, and cried together. When Donna needed someone to vent to, Jackie was there. Whether or not she was always listening had been sometimes debatable, but in her way, Jackie had shown her true sentiments. When she'd helped Eric pay for Donna's ring, when she comforted Michael with his menial insecurities, when she pushed Steven to be more than just a burnout, she was showing them all that she loved them. When she showed Eric a (skewed) feminine perspective, offering her opinions on relationships and intimacy, she'd tried to show how she cared.

But these shallow fancies had never been quite enough for Donna. She'd always resented that Jackie was raised to want marriage and comfort, and had never quite given her credit for having a mind of her own. Even in the few times she'd tried to "enlighten" the tiny brunette, to the wonders of feminism, it had been with a certain amount of condescension. She'd never even considered that Jackie's way was her own. She'd never imagined that, for Jackie, her way was the right way...

At least, not until now.

Now that she was gone, Donna wallowed in guilt for feeling that way. She felt as though she should have tried to understand the shorter girl a little better. No one in their little "gang" had really appreciated Jackie the way they should have. She was always someone's girlfriend, someone else's problem. She was always tied to Michael or Steven, or even Fez, though only in friendship. And when she'd found those relationships lacking, she'd done what any woman with unlimited funds would do. She left.

Donna regarded the other things on the vanity, the hair cream for Fez, the perfume for Sam, the mascara for...Michael... 'My God, they have a weird relationship!' she thought, fingering the cosmetic. She packed the items in a stray tote bag, one that bore a purple unicorn on one of it's pockets, and left the room, locking it behind her. Fez seemed to think that Jackie would be back, otherwise she would not have continued to pay her half of the rent. Meanwhile, Randy and Hyde were entertaining the unsavory notion that the petite brunette would never be seen or heard from again. Randy spoke of it as though it were a joke, a cartoonish caricature of life, while Hyde had taken a somewhat somber approach to the whole affair.

Since Jackie's silent departure, Donna had noted Hyde's steady increase of alcohol consumption, from two beers a night to six. Sam had confided to the former redhead that the beatnik had not been interested in sex of any kind in three weeks. According to Donna's calculations, that was right around the time Jackie had abandoned her place in the basement, and – apparently – began planning her trip abroad.

Donna had tried to talk to Hyde about his situation, about Sam and Jackie and his whole drunken marriage...thing...but his mask of perpetual Zen kept her from really understanding what he was saying. Or perhaps it had been the pot. A "circle" of two was not always the best of ideas. Particularly when one of the parties involved had been paranoid and difficult to get close to on a sober day. As much as she would have liked to write off Hyde's behavior as simply exceptionally Hyde-like, Donna knew that there was more to it than just that. She knew that he missed Jackie, though whether it was the idea of her, or her actual presence was still a mystery.

'I think he misses having a classy, rich, beautiful influence in his life. He misses being pushed to be better...' she mused. She wasn't sure how much she believed her own inner monologue.

She'd seen how happy Hyde had been with Jackie, and she knew that Jackie wanted nothing more than to share the intimacy of a marriage bed with Steven. Donna's unique position allowed her to see both sides of the story, and though she'd thought them both idiots for trying to change the other, she sympathized. She'd always wanted Eric to be a bit more sophisticated, a bit more "with it," and a little less like the scrawny little boy she'd known from childhood. She certainly understood what it was like to want more out of a person than what they were willing to give, but she'd never seen two more stubborn, savagely passionate people fight over a future neither of them was entirely sure they wanted.

Jackie certainly didn't want to live her life unmarried and tied to a man who wasn't able to take care of her, or give her the things she needed. And despite all of her swagger, all of her insistence that she needed cars, shoes and jewelry, what Jackie really needed was raw, pure passion, and someone who wasn't afraid to show it, often and in front of anyone. Jackie needed someone who wasn't afraid to tell her he loved her, and really meant it. Jackie needed someone who wouldn't leave her if things got too difficult.

And Hyde was...well, his needs were, perhaps, the polar opposite. He didn't want to admit how much he needed someone to love him, but what he craved more than anything was space. As soon as anyone, any girl, any girlfriend, got too close and made him feel too much, he blew it off. He threw her away. Donna had not forgotten all of the times Steven had been given real chances at love, but refused them in favor of some skank with too much eyeliner. Hyde needed someone with loyalties, with independence. He needed someone who would push him to be better, but without nagging at him, pouting and demanding and manipulating.

But they still loved each other, and they'd worked for a long time. Donna entertained the notion that the only reason they'd lasted as long as they had was because they didn't talk about their problems. Eric had speculated that the unholy couple had managed to work because they compromised, traded one ideal for another, and given each other exactly what they needed without meaning to. Eric, of course, had never been overly adept in matters of the heart. He'd always had the uncanny ability to turn a painfully romantic occasion into a storm of irritation and resentment. He could make Donna furious by simply teasing her that way that boys tease.

In hindsight, the former red-head was beginning to notice that lots of things about Eric were not as annoying as she thought they were. And in further hindsight, Donna was beginning to see that Eric had been right about Hyde and Jackie's relationship.

She turned her attention to the bag on her shoulder and tried to decide whether or not Sam would appreciate the Chanel perfume that Jackie had left for her. It was a fairly new bottle, hardly even used, but Sam would probably be disdainful of it. She thought about telling her that Steven found the scent inexplicably sexy, that it might spice up their fizzling sex-life. According to Jackie, that perfume could drive him mad for her, even if her face was completely devoid of makeup, and her hair in pigtails. Upon further consideration, Donna decided that she did not feel much loyalty to the former stripper. She tucked the perfume deeper into the tote bag and entered the basement, tossing Fez the hair cream.

"Thank you, Donna! This makes my hair oh-so shiny and so full of body!" exclaimed the foreign boy. Hyde snorted, recognizing the brand on the label, and shook his head.

"So the cheerleader is trying to buy some sympathy?" he quipped.

"Shut it, Hyde," snapped Fez. "You're the reason she left in the first place! Oh, my beloved Jackie! I miss her already!" His brown eyes glazed with tears and he stormed upstairs, intent on tea with Mrs. Forman, which always made him feel better. Donna scowled, hating that their group was further dividing. First Eric, then Michael, and now Jackie. Never mind that the few and the proud that remained were no longer close and intimate with one another any longer. Donna hadn't confided in anyone save for Randy, especially now that she and Eric were completely over.

And with Jackie gone, Donna felt like her ties to the group were fading. Before, when it had just been the four of them, Eric, Donna, Michael, and Steven, things had been easy. And but then Kelso brought Jackie into their inner circle. And once they'd adopted Fez as their own pet project, then later their friend, things had felt perfect. Even with Jackie's constant bantering, and Michael's shenanigans, and Fez's horniness, everything had fit together.

But it wasn't like that any more. And Donna resented that. Worse yet, she resented that Jackie, her confidante and best girl friend was gone. She slumped glumly on the couch, hardly even aware of Randy's arm around her shoulders. It would be difficult to loose track of everyone, and it would be even worse knowing that some of them had chosen to get lost. But Donna knew, somewhere beneath the resentment, the anger, and even the grief, that she would miss everyone, and that they all deserved chances at happiness.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Hard Goodbye Author: Hellcat The Wicked Disclaimer: Nothing 70's is mine. I wasn't even alive for the 70's.  
Summary: Letters are written, and something good happens to Jackie.  
Author's Note: Wow! I had no idea people loved this story so much! Thanks so much for all your support and reviews! I'm not sure how much longer I'll prolong this thing, but it's starting to go a road I didn't expect. This chapter will be short, but that's because it's leading up to something cool. Some of you may kill me. That is all. Enjoy! 

_Dear Donna,_

_I'm writing this to you from one of the beaches in Sardinia, getting the best tan I've ever gotten. It took me all of three days in Paris to realize that I wasn't that fond of French men, French food, or French attitudes. Besides, this is the perfect time of year to visit Sardinia, and it's so beautiful here I can't even explain it. (See the enclosed pictures for details.) I hope you're not too irritated that this letter is coming so late. I didn't mean to wait so long to contact you, it just happened that way. I've been touring around Greece and Italy for a while, doing things that are so un-Jackie you wouldn't believe me if I told you._

_Things are going amazingly here. I'm seeing this Italian guy named Alessandro… (and before you can say it, I know that sounds like a name from an actor out of a skin-flick.) he's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, with these green eyes that make you melt every time you look into them._

_I never imagined life could be this good. I've got a million friends! I spend most of my days lazing around on the beach, and my nights at the local dance clubs. I haven't had a single serious thought in ages! You know, I really was tired of thinking so hard. It was starting to take a toll on my complexion, too._

_I won't bore you with too many details, because I'm sure you're insanely jealous of my adventures. What about you? What's going on back in Point Place? How are the boys? Michael sent me pictures of Betsy – she's getting so big! He's made me promise to come and visit as soon as I get bored over here. I told him it was unlikely that I'd be getting bored, but I'd make time to visit him and his beautiful daughter soon._

_I got a letter from Eric a few days ago. He's doing well – but I assume you know that. How are things with you and Randy? Is his hair still floppy and feathered? Is there any way you can prevail upon him to grow it out properly?_

_I have to stop short, unfortunately. I'll mail you again in a few days, I promise. Hope you enjoy the pictures! (P-L-E-A-S-E don't let Fez get his hands on the topless beach photo.)_

_Love Jackie_

Jackie did not take the time to re-read the letter, satisfied with the fact that it was complete, and sealed the envelope with a flourish. She had a small stack of letters she'd just finished; one for Michael, Fez, Eric, Mr. and Mrs. Forman, her mother, her father, and one for Mr. Pinciott. She did not have a letter for Steven, nor did she intend to write one.

Alessandro came sauntering in, his bronzed skin damp with ocean water, and nuzzled the back of her neck. She smirked and turned to face him, barely aware of the fact that he hadn't closed the flap to their tent. Had anyone back in Wisconsin heard that she was living out of a tent, wearing wood bracelets and cheap sarongs, they would have laughed until the next century. If there was to be one person in all the world that would never, ever, EVER go camping happily, it was Jackie Burkhart; yet that was exactly what she was doing. After spending two weeks in the lap of luxury, Jackie had begun to get bored. Then, one day, she met a tall, well-muscled Italian who called her his Botticelli beauty. Before long they were embroiled in the kind of passionate affair that dreams were made of. There was only one problem; Alessandro was not rich. Not even close. He was vacationing in Sardinia for a few weeks with some of his mates, but their money had run out and they'd been forced to live on the beach until their return-flight tickets came due. Jackie had been enthralled by the idea of living on the beach, and before long, the pair were practically living together.

Jackie pretended that they were not "living in sin" by making the distinction between houses and tents. An unmarried couple living in a house was "living in sin," while an unmarried couple living in a tent was just harmless fun. In this way she could excuse everything she was doing and enjoy her vacation from herself fully.

She learned that she did not have to wear expensive cosmetics and curl her hair to be beautiful. She learned that it didn't really matter what you wore to the beach, because no one was looking at the pattern on your bathing suit. She learned that men could be loyal and sweet without being rude obnoxious perverts.

Jackie could not have been happier, and could not wait to move on to the next part of her journey. She intended to go to Fiji, and if Alessandro wanted to come with her, he was more than welcome. If not, she had no problem saying goodbye, because as good as the sex was, and as sweet and charming as he might have been, she did not love him. She had no intentions of falling for him, either.

That was another one of the alterations she'd made to herself. She was tired of giving herself so completely in relationships only to be burned in the end. She wanted to have fun with a boy; to go out and really enjoy herself without all the heaviness of love and future. Certainly, she wanted to get married, but she wanted to experience all the things a beautiful young heiress ought to experience before she tied herself down. Jackie felt oddly liberated by her new attitude, and wondered what else would change once she moved on from Sardinia. She couldn't wait to find out.


End file.
